Looking Everywhere but Here
by dabbling
Summary: Maybe, just maybe, Bobby Goren will learn a little something about love.
1. Chapter 1

Looking Everywhere But Here

Chapter 1

He awoke late, content to stare at a cobweb in the corner of the ceiling rather than get up and get on with his life. She'd let him down easy. He didn't mind the break-up so much, at least not breaking up with _her_. It was the fact that he couldn't make it work that bothered him.

His heart wasn't broken, but his spirit was. Janine hadn't meant any more to him than his last six girlfriends: companionship, a good lay once in a while. She was nice and all, he could have stuck it out with her, but somehow, it wasn't enough. He'd played all his cards right, and she'd still dumped him.

What Bobby couldn't figure was: if he could be content and stick it out with someone who was nice, and fun, and relatively honest, why couldn't she? He'd been as kind as ever, he'd had a few laughs with her, he'd made love to her on a cold winter night. He hadn't seen anyone else in the last 3 months, since they'd been together. Yet it wasn't enough for her.

The ringing of the phone snapped him out of his thoughts. He fumbled through his discarded pants on the floor and withdrew it from his pocket. "Goren," he managed to say just before it went to voicemail.

"Bobby? You coming in today?"

"Oh, shit! I'm sorry, Alex, I…" What excuse did he have, really? "I forgot what day it was."

"Monday, Bobby. Last time I checked."

"Shit," he muttered again. "I'll be in as soon as I can. Uhm… make up some excuse for me with Deakins?"

"Sure, Bobby."

* * *

Alex was dividing her attention between the monotonous monologue of the man on the phone and Mike Logan. He was still relatively new to the squad, and she still hadn't made up her mind about him yet.

Mike was sharpening pencils and lining them up on the top of his desk. If he kept it up, he would have enough pencils to last him the rest of the calendar year without ever having to sharpen one again. She saw Bobby step off the elevator and saw an opportunity to bring the painful phone call to an end. "Okay, thank you Howard. That was really, really helpful. I'll call you again if I need anything else. Thanks again," she said and hung up. She kept her eyes on Bobby until he stood beside his desk, dropping his binder with a thunk.

"You okay?" She asked.

He nodded, but his expression didn't jive with that sentiment. Bobby flopped into his chair and opened his desk drawer, pulling out an old yellow pencil. He wagged it nervously between his fingers, then used it to practice his magic tricks.

"Fill me in?" She asked.

"Oh, uh… you remember Janine?" She nodded. "She, uh, well… we're through."

"Oh, Bobby, I'm so sorry."

She couldn't mean that. He looked up at her and was surprised to see that she did. "W-why?" he asked.

"Why?"

"Yeah, why are you sorry about it? I mean, it shouldn't matter to you one way or the other."

"It matters to me because you're my friend."

He maintained the eye contact with her and blinked twice, before he finally looked down and said, "Oh."

He put the pencil away and pulled out a file out of his lower drawer. Alex gave Logan another glance before she got busy on a report of her own. The new detective had placed all the pencils in a cup, point side up, and was now busy working on his laptop.

"I didn't do anything wrong," Bobby volunteered.

She glanced back up at him and waited for him to continue.

He shrugged. "I mean, she… she just thought it was best, and…" With that comment, he spilled what was left of yesterday's coffee all over the paperwork in front of him. They both jumped to their feet and got busy rescuing the file.

"Maybe she just… wasn't ready," Alex suggested.

"No, she told me early on what she wanted. I thought I was giving it to her."

Alex frowned. "Look, it's almost lunch, and it's slow as hell around here. Let's get out of here for a while." She looked over at Logan, who was sucking his finger after inadvertently stabbing himself when he reached for one of his pencils. "We'll take Logan. He's having a hell of a day, too."

* * *

"Barek's out sick," Mike explained, sipping from his soda straw.

"What's she got, the flu?" Alex asked. Glancing over at Bobby, she saw he was more interested in the people filing by on the sidewalk outside.

"Yeah, something like that," he said. "Last night, we had just finished interviewing this guy, and she damned near puked all over my shoes." He ate a stray French Fry that had fallen off his plate. "Kinda put our investigation at a standstill."

"Well, Bobby and I are in between cases. We could help you out."

"There's more legwork to do, not safe to do it alone," Logan explained.

"Bobby," Alex said, drawing his attention back to the table. "Feel like a little legwork?"

His expression was less than enthusiastic, but he shrugged and said, "sure."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"You guys take the lead. I'll just shop," Alex said with a grin. Logan had already filled them in on the case, and they were near the music shop, getting their ducks in a row.

"You go in first, we'll be there in a few," Bobby said.

Alex climbed out of the driver's seat and walked the half a block down to the store. As she went in, she smiled at the salesman and started rooting through the cd's on the display shelves.

"Can I help you?"

"No, I'm okay," she called over her shoulder. She kept on digging through the letter S, rock and roll genre. A few minutes later, she heard the jangle of the bell at the door. She slipped a cd out of the bunch and held it in her left while she continued browsing with her right.

"Can I help you?" The salesman asked them.

"You got any old, you know, punker stuff? My sister's all into it and…"

"Yeah, sure. What's she like? Sex Pistols, Dead Kennedies, the Ramones, what?"

"Hell, I don't know." He looked over at Mike. "Do you know?"

"She told me to talk to Walker, that he would know what she likes." Mike turned to the salesman. "She comes in here all the time."

"Oh, uh… sure. Hold on." He went back to the back room. Alex took her handful of cd's up to the counter.

"Walker!" The man called. He came out from the back room. Alex was blocking his view until he got all the way in the center of the sales floor. Then he recognized Mike, and bolted. Alex used her arm to keep the first sales guy out of harm's way while Mike and Bobby ran after Walker and tackled him by the office door.

"I didn't do nothing! You got the wrong guy!" Walker yelled.

Both Bobby and Mike's adrenaline was up. "Then you won't mind coming with us, answering some questions," Bobby said.

They gave him a few minutes to catch his breath. "O-okay," he finally said. Mike called in a patrol car and rode with Walker back to 1PP while Alex and Bobby took their fleet vehicle.

"That went well," Alex told him.

"We'll get a name or two out of him, anyway," Bobby predicted. He stared out at the gathering rain as they moved through the city streets.

From the corner of her eye, she could see she was losing him again. He was folding back in on himself, closing her out.

"Bobby," she said.

"Huh?" He inhaled deeply and straightened his back, giving himself a little stretch.

"She wasn't for you."

He was silent at first, then licked his lips and swallowed. "Apparently not," was his reply.

Alex frowned at this, and then added, "So it's good that you know. Better to spend your time looking for the right one than wasting time with the wrong one."

"Alex Eames, relationship expert." He folded his arms and turned his gaze the opposite direction.

"I know a few things about love," she said.

"The only thing we can accept as truth about something as inscrutable as 'love' is that it's an enigma that favors only a few."

"I knew love once. I was married."

This knocked him off his high horse instantly. He'd heard she'd been married, heard that he'd been killed in the line of duty. "I'm sorry, Eames," he said.

"I'm not looking for sympathy, Bobby. I just want you to… well, not to blow me off just because you're feeling bitter right now."

"You give me a lot of credit I don't deserve."

"You don't give yourself half as much as you should." She pulled into the parking structure and paused to wait for the barrier arm to rise. "Don't give up, Bobby. That's all I wanted to say."

* * *

Walker sat in the interview room, a cold can of soda open in front of him and sitting on a napkin. Logan sat beside him, already entrenched in the good cop role since their long ride into the plaza.

Goren paced beside the door, listening, but not accepting anything that came out of the man's mouth. "So why would he bother?" Bobby asked.

"You don't believe anything I say!" Shouted Walker. He turned pleading eyes to Logan. "Why won't he believe me?"

Logan shrugged. "He thinks everybody lies. Just answer his questions, he'll see it eventually."

"So," Bobby asked again, leaning over the table to look into the man's eyes, "why would he bother?"

"I give him more than just a handful of supplies. He can't trust anybody. Every person he knows is… you know, trouble."

"But he can trust you," Mike said.

"I listened to him. We'd do the deal, and before he left, he'd always, you know, smoke one with me."

"You got high together."

His frightened eyes looked up at Goren. "Aw, man, you're not gonna… I'm just trying to explain."

"What did he tell you, Walker?" Logan asked.

"They threatened his sister. She's just a kid. He had to keep on, or they'd kill her, or worse."

"Who?"

Walker, looking scared, glanced from one man to the other. "A guy named Honch. That's what all the kids call him. I don't know his real name. And his guys. I know one of them goes by Rush."

Bobby turned and left the room, while Mike finished the interview alone. He found Alex and Deakins talking quietly at her desk.

"Any luck?" Deakins asked cheerfully.

"Honch, and Rush," Bobby said. "Time to get crackin'."

* * *

As he fingered the glass of scotch in front of him, Bobby's thoughts turned to Eames.

_I'm so sorry, Bobby. _

_Why?_

_ Because you're my friend._

Bobby didn't know friendship like this. His one and only lifelong friend would have never said anything of the kind. Lewis would have gone drinking with him, shot some hoops, tinkered with a car.

Even his own family never showed such interest. His mother would have been pleased the relationship had failed. If she had told him she was sorry, it would have been a lie. It wouldn't upset him, either. His mother lied to him because she loved him.

But Alex hadn't lied. That was very hard for him to comprehend.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Two years ago. Karen. She hadn't even said goodbye, just stopped answering his calls.

Bobby hadn't bothered to find her, either. He knew it would be pointless.

And then he met Denise at the newsstand by his apartment. He'd almost fallen for her. She left him a note, told him she just didn't see a future for them.

Oona was fun. She knew at least 6 languages fluently. Sometimes on dates, they would converse entirely in German and convince people they were tourists. She'd wanted to move in; he didn't invite her. She started seeing someone else before they'd even broken it off.

Maybe it was a rebound thing, but sex was fantastic with Claudia. In fact, that summed up their entire relationship. She tried, but she couldn't connect with him in any other way. So she'd drifted on to someone else.

About that time is when Bobby's attitude started to change. He'd decided he was at fault, that he should be more attentive to the wants and needs of the women in his life. He met Anne at the smoke shop. Thinking of her now, he smiled as he remembered her short skirts and knee-high spike heeled boots. She'd stayed with him longer, almost two months. In the end, the job seemed to be the thing that drove her off.

He waited a while before dating again, and then he answered a personal ad. Bev was just like the ad said she was. Again, he tried to focus on her needs, and again, after a month, she broke it off.

When Janine came along, he was thinking about revising his strategy. The thing was, she was such a nice person, that he couldn't. He decided to stick with the plan. From Bobby's perspective he'd given her everything she'd asked for… so why wasn't it enough?

_ Fuck them. Fuck them all._ Silently, Bobby resolved to stop looking. Marriage and family and all that wasn't for him anyway. He was going to have a good time, get laid when he got the chance, and not even bother with trying to make anything work.

* * *

He'd just settled into a deep, hard sleep when the alarm went off. With a groan, he rolled out of bed and hit the shower.

* * *

Alex and Logan were mapping out a course of action for the day. Bobby strolled up behind them and dropped a sack in front of Alex on the desk. When she turned around, he handed her a coffee. "What's this?" she asked him.

"Danish," he said.

"Thanks." He hadn't slept well, she could see it all over his face. "You okay?"

He flicked his eyes over at Logan, then back at her. "Yeah, sure," he lied.

Logan cleared his throat. "We were planning out the day," he told Goren. "Seems it's time to branch out a little. Narco has some young faces, we thought we'd borrow them to track these two down."

"Anybody I know?" Bobby asked.

Alex rattled off the names, but they were all unfamiliar. She glanced up at him. "Young faces, remember?" She told him, and he nodded.

"In the meantime, I've got a place I want to check out in the neighborhood. The weapon still hasn't been recovered," Logan explained. "Barek and I hit this one the other night, before she got sick. I think… something about it just doesn't sit well with me."

* * *

"Uh, hello, detective," Rudy Mullins said, as he took a step back. Everything about his body language screamed reluctance.

Bobby milled around the store, checking prices on jackets and hats while listening to Mike talk with the man.

"I thought you were… uh, done with me the other night," he continued.

"Oh, you know, Rudy, sometimes you think of a question later. So Rudy," Mike asked, sitting down in the little chair behind the counter. "What is it about your clothes that these guys like?"

"H-huh?"

"You said they're regular customers." Mike glanced over his shoulder at Bobby. "Goren, here, he tells me he only buys a jacket maybe once a year. And hats, 2-3 a year at most."

"Y-you're suits."

"Yeah," Mike agreed, "but we like to let down on the weekends, you know. So, you figure, our friends… they're not suits." He stared at Mullins until he nodded. "So maybe they buy more often, but still... Who needs more than one coat?"

Rudy rubbed the inside of his wrist. "I… I just sell the stuff. I don't ask why."

Abruptly, Bobby caught the man's forearm and turned it so he could have a look. "Looks like a rash," he said. "You should put something on that." He let go.

"All right, then, Mullins," Mike said as he got up out of the seat. "We'll be in touch. You know, if I forgot to ask something again."

As he and Goren walked out, Bobby fingered one more pricetag before he left. They met up with Alex at the diner on the corner.

"How'd that go?" she inquired.

Mike shrugged. "He squirmed a little more than last time."

"That rash," Bobby said. "You know, it's rare, but some people are… allergic to marijuana."

"Poor bastards," Mike quipped. "You think Rudy's-?"

"The nice thing about his jackets is they all have a hidden inside pocket. A pretty roomy one. Big enough for a stash, or a weapon."

"Yeah, but why are these two replacing them all the time?"

Bobby looked around, then shrugged. "I don't know."

* * *

Bobby stared at the television, feeling the effects of the alcohol on his system. He was warm and relaxed. The game ended, and a host of other bar patrons drifted off in various directions, leaving a hole at the bar. He sipped at his drink and slowly turned, scanning the room. His eyes fell on a familiar face in the corner. She picked up her hand and waved three fingers, a subtle smile at her lips.

As Goren smiled back, she rose and drew near, settling onto the barstool beside him.

"Imagine seeing you here," she said.

He gave her a crooked smile. "Hello, Claudia."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"You're looking good," Bobby said.

She gave him a smile. "You're drunk, but I'll accept the compliment."

"No, really. I'd forgotten." His eyes scanned the length of her.

"You're going gray," she said, one finger touching the hair at his temple. "I like it. Sexy."

"How's… what was his name again?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "What's his name is off with what's her name, and I couldn't give a rat's ass." She saw him struggling with the right thing to say, and took the pressure off. "We broke it off a while ago. I'm on my own nowadays."

"Oh." He swallowed down what remained of his drink.

"You?"

"You know me, Claudia, it's just a revolving door around here."

"So you're…"

"Unattached."

Her grin widened and held a hint of mischief. "Wanna… for old times' sake?"

He scanned her body again, flashes of memories of bare flesh and heat and sex burning his brain. "Hell yeah," he breathed, leaning in for a lustful kiss.

Tongues continued to probe until he leaned in too far and lost his balance, catching himself with his left arm on the edge of the bar.

"Bobby," she said with a grin. "I'd forgotten." He tossed down a few bills on the bar. After a quick pit stop, they were on their way to the subway, arm in arm.

She crossed her legs over his lap on the train, her hands hooked around his neck as they continued to kiss. Conversation wasn't necessary. With Claudia, it never had been.

He led her to his apartment. They didn't bother removing everything; only the items that were in the way. The tail of her blouse bunched up against him, adding a new sensation to the mix. Bobby thrust against her, hard, and they grunted and heaved until he exploded inside her. A wave of peace crashed over him. It lasted a while, and he enjoyed every minute of it. They napped together, still sticky from the sweat and their mingled juices.

He roused her from her sleep, his hands finally stripping her to her bare skin. She was long and lean, and though her breasts looked small, they filled his eager hands. His whiskers scraped the skin of her cheek as they devoured each other again. Bobby felt her tongue swirling hard into the soft part of his neck, and his hips pushed up hard, finding her wet and ready.

Again, they fucked hard and fast, until overloaded senses cried out and shut down. All of time stopped.

* * *

In the morning, after a shower and a shave, Bobby found a marker in his desk drawer and scrawled out a note for her before he left for work.

_Claudia,_

_ Just lock up when you leave. I'll call you._

_ Sometime._

_ Bobby_

* * *

Although he'd stopped for the coffee and Danish like always, one look told her he was in a mood. "Thanks," she said, accepting the coffee. He grunted a response. "Rough night?" She asked.

His eyes snapped to hers, but he didn't say the first 6 things that came to mind. Instead, he stammered and lied. "Oh, uh, I… uh, you know… couldn't sleep."

The hickey was small, but she caught a glimpse of it peeking out from under his collar. "Hard to sleep when you're attacked by leeches," she joked.

Instantly, his hand went to his neck. He scowled at her. "Funny," he said, but it was clear he didn't think it was.

"You're back with Janine?" she asked.

"I don't think it's your business," he snapped, his voice rising in pitch, "who I'm with, Eames!"

She raised an eyebrow and leaned back. "Geez, all right, already."

Bobby ran a hand through his hair, turned and walked away. He made his way to the john, took a piss, and washed his hands. Aggravated, he stared at his tired face in the mirror. Bobby ran cool water over his hands, bent over, and splashed his face.

Last night had felt terrific at the time, but today, he felt like shit. And Alex, friend though she was, needed to stay out of his business.

* * *

"We picked up Rush last night," the Narcotics detective was explaining to the three from Major Case. "Real name's Pedro Garcia. He's 19, has a lot of priors, mostly pot. One domestic violence charge, he hit his mother."

"Sweetheart," Alex grumbled.

"Thanks," Bobby said, shaking the man's hand. Logan took the file from him and the narcotics officer left.

Mike looked through the glass of the observation room. "Draw straws?" he asked.

Bobby just left observation and walked right into the interrogation room. Alex, aggravated with him, followed, leaving Mike to observe.

"Pedro," Bobby said cheerfully. "Come for another visit, have you?"

"I don't know you, man."

"No, well…" Bobby looked at Eames and smiled. "Not _me,_ but you are… making the rounds, aren't you? Trying to see the inside of as many… squad rooms as you can? Make a few… friends along the way?"

"Goren," Alex said in warning. He glared at her.

"So what's the visit for this time? Take a piss on the sidewalk? Or did you pop Mama another one? Or maybe you dropped your lunchbox and spilled your weed all over the damned place."

Garcia gave Goren a scowl.

Alex stepped forward. "I'm Detective Eames," she said, holding out her hand for him to shake. "Sorry about my partner. Detective Goren woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

It was all part of the game, but only Alex would be able to make it real at the same time. Goren stung from the remark.

"It looks like," Alex referred to the file, "you were picked up last night for possession of marijuana."

"Mary Jane," Bobby said. "Is that your mama's name, too?"

Pedro smacked the table and stood, glaring at Goren.

"Oh, come on now," Bobby laughed. "You're gonna protect her, now? Who protects her from you, Pedro?"

"Goren." Alex's voice was firm. Bobby waved his hands in the air and paced over towards the door.

"Mr. Garcia, you know how this works," Alex said. "We book you, you make bail, you go to court and end up on probation pissing into a cup for the next two years."

He stared at her.

"You don't want to go through that again, do you?" He remained silent, but his body language indicated he was listening.

"You see, Pedro, we're not after you. We're after the bigger fish."

"I don't rat on my boys."

"This is bigger than some guys hitting the 420, Pedro. It's about murder," Goren interjected.

His eyes widened. "I don't know no shit about no murder."

Eames moved closer to him, sat on the edge of the table. "I don't think you did it, Pedro. But I think you know something about it."

He slowly turned and looked up into her eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N As always, reviews are appreciated! Thanks to everyone who's already sent one!

* * *

Chapter 5

"Look, all I know is I saw a gun. I don't know if it was used on that girl or not."

"Where did you see the gun?" Bobby asked.

"It was in the trunk of his car."

"Whose car?"

"Honch's car. But the next time I saw in the trunk, it wasn't there."

"Where can we find Honch?"

Mike watched through the window as Bobby and Alex got all the details: Honch's address, favorite haunts, and a description of the car.

Rush was obviously upset that he'd just told the police about his friend. "He didn't do it," he said. "He didn't kill her. He loved that girl."

The detectives let Pedro go and gathered around Mike's desk to put it all together. They came up with a game plan for after lunch. Alex turned to ask Bobby if he wanted to eat with her, but he was already headed for the elevators.

"What's eating him?" Mike asked her.

It would be a betrayal to tell Mike about Bobby's personal life, so Alex shrugged. "Bad day, I guess."

* * *

Impounding the car was the easy part. Finding Honch was not. The narcotics squad hadn't even had any luck. It was starting to look as if he'd fled. Narcotics asked for one more night, so the Major Case detectives called it a day.

Before he left, Alex walked him to the elevator. "A little early for us, that's nice," she said.

He grunted some kind of reply, but not with an ugly tone.

"You have plans?" She asked.

At first, he bristled. He reminded himself that she was just trying to be a friend. "Yeah," he said. "I'm going to Carmel Ridge."

She gave him a gentle smile. "See you tomorrow, Bobby."

"Bye, Eames." The elevator doors closed on him and she turned to go to the locker room.

* * *

"I know he wants to see me, but he's just too busy," she said. "Frank was always a good boy. He always took good care of me," she told her younger son.

"Yeah, Ma, he did," Bobby agreed with a soft voice, even though every word she said felt like daggers in his heart.

"Your father," she continued, "was a sex-addict," she said. "I saw it on tv. These men that can't think of anything else, and have to mate with everything on two legs. That was him, only we didn't know what to call it back then."

"Dad wasn't good to you, that's true," Bobby said, feeling like he should crawl into a cave and never come out.

"Oh, Bobby, how's the police work?"  
He perked up at this. She never wanted to talk about him. "Good, Ma, it's good. Catching a lot of perps, you know."

"You could have been so much more," she said. "You're so good with words, Bobby. Why didn't you go into law?"

He shrugged. "I'm more interested in people, Ma. Personalities, motivations."

"You could have been a Psychiatrist."

He nodded. "I suppose."

"You were too impatient," she said. "You got bored with college and ran off to do that Army thing."

"CID."

"That ruined your life, Bobby. Now you'll never make a decent living."

"I do all right, Ma."

"All right. Someone as sharp as you should do more than all right."

He was silent.

"I can't tell you what it was like for me when you were in the Army. Your brother was too busy to come by and help. I had rats in the house, Bobby. Rats!"

Bobby swallowed, glanced quickly at the corner of the room. "I'm sorry, Ma."

"You're sorry now. Then you didn't even have the time of day for me."

He squirmed then got up out of his chair. "I was a stupid kid, Mom. Selfish. I'm sorry." He put one hand in his pocket and checked the clock. "Look, I gotta go. You need me to get you anything before Sunday?"

"A good book."

"Sure," he smiled. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Love you, Ma."

"If you see Frank—"

"I'll tell him." Bobby walked out. When he got to the car, he let out a deep breath. Actually, that had been a pretty good visit. He tried to tick off all the positives in his mind as he drove home.

* * *

The note was still on the table. She'd scrawled on the bottom: _Sometime._

* * *

Alex finally had a night to herself. She'd spent much of the last week running errands for her father and now she was happy to be at home for a night. She curled up in her throw blanket with a glass of wine and found herself thinking about Bobby.

He hadn't spoken much about Janine, but he had seemed happy. He was sure to call her if they were working late, he'd gotten her something for her birthday. It looked like Bobby had given it a good try.

Alex wondered if he loved Janine. Thinking back, she couldn't remember anything he'd said that had struck her that way. _He must have,_ she thought. _He's taking the break-up pretty hard._

And Alex had already figured out where the hickey came from. He had a one night stand. He was rebounding, and he took advantage of some opportunity that came his way. _Too bad he couldn't enjoy it._

She went so far as to hold the phone in her hands, but she didn't dial the number. The way the day had gone, there's no way he would respond well to a call. Eventually, she put the phone away and lost herself in a movie instead.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

He was already there when she arrived, a cup of coffee and a bakery bag on her desk. Sitting down, she offered him a smile. "You're up early," Alex said.

He graced her with a smile and took a sip of his coffee. "Look, Eames… I'm… I'm sorry…" That was as much as he could get to come out of his stubborn mouth.

Alex chose to completely ignore his apology. She pulled the Danish out of the bag instead. "Aw, blueberry! Thanks, Bobby."

"I got a call," Logan said as he walked over to join them. "Honch is in custody, waiting to be escorted to our interrogation rooms."

Bobby grinned. "Pretty early in the morning," he said.

Mike smiled, too. "He didn't get much sleep last night."

Bobby leapt out of his seat and the two men started towards the interrogation rooms. Eames followed on their heels.

* * *

The three detectives were gathered in the observation room, studying Darian Stiles, aka Honch. He was 24 years old, mixed race, mostly black and Cuban, with tattoo on his left arm in the shape of a dagger. He had been sitting in the interrogation room for 30 minutes now, and they'd watched as his adrenaline had slowly seeped away and weariness had crept in. Now he laid his head on the table, cradled by his folded arm.

"We better do this soon, or he's gonna fall asleep." Logan was ready.

Bobby took a step toward the door and turned back to Alex. "D-did you want to-?" he asked.

"No, Bobby, you go ahead. I'll just observe."

He nodded and followed Logan into the room. As the detectives approached, Honch raised his weary head.

"Mr. Stiles," Bobby said politely. "I'm Detective Goren, this is Detective Logan." Bobby sat down and opened his binder in front of him. "We understand that you were acquainted with Kendra Jones."

"Yeah," he said.

"How did you know Ms. Jones?" Bobby asked. Mike lurked in the background, swaying from foot to foot near the doorway.

"She was my girl."

"You were dating her?" He nodded, and Bobby scratched some notes in his ledger. "Sleeping with her?" Again, the man nodded. "How long were you seeing her?" Bobby asked.

"About a year. She was my girl."

"She was pregnant, you know." Bobby stared at him. Something about his reaction was off.

"She never told me," he said, and appeared to be on the brink of tears.

"Where were you the night she was murdered?" Mike interjected.

"Oh, hell no, I didn't have nothing to do with that. She was my girl, man! I loved her!"

There was no cue from Bobby, so Mike continued. "Then how do you explain her blood in the trunk of your car?"

"What?!"

"Trace amounts," Bobby explained, "of blood, Kendra's blood, were found in the trunk of your car."

He shook his head slowly.

Mike leaned in, his voice low and menacing. "It was the gun, Darian. You put the gun in the trunk, and some of her blood was on it, and the blood stuck to the carpeting in there…"

"I loaned my car to a friend that night," he said, and within seconds his face erupted in a wide, toothy grin.

"Okay," Bobby smiled. "Who?" He waited, his pencil poised to write the name.

* * *

"Narco wants a piece of it," Deakins was saying. "I guess they found more than they thought they would. Is he good for the murder?"

Bobby nodded slowly.

"Then squeeze it out of him." Another detective came in and handed Deakins a fax. "Holy hell," Deakins said. "Another one." He held out the fax to Eames.

"Looks like he's been shopping at Rudy's," she said.

Mike studied the photo, then passed it to Goren, who furrowed his brow as he looked it over. He didn't seem to notice Logan and his partner leaving the room.

Deakins tapped him on the side of his leg with a file folder. "Mind if I have my office back?"

"Oh, sorry, Cap'n," Bobby muttered and he gathered himself out of the chair and walked out. Deakins stared after him.

Mike and Alex were already theorizing even as Alex called the coroner's office. "What?" she said to Bobby while she waited for someone to pick up the other end of the line.

Bobby pursed his lips, then looked from her to Logan. "Rudy Mullins… that rash. It was his left wrist. The inside pocket on the jackets, it's on the right."

"Whatever he was allergic to was in the hidden pocket?" Logan said.

"Yeah, this is Detective Eames. We want to pay a visit on a DOA from last night…" she referred to the fax that Bobby handed her. "Darnell Stewart. Okay, two o'clock? Thanks." She hung up and frowned at the picture. "What's the connection, Bobby?"

"Maybe Mr. Stewart can explain it," he said.

"Well, they're pretty busy down there, said she can't see us until two." She looked at her partner. "Lunch?"

Bobby nodded.

Alex gave Mike an inquiring look. "Nah, I gotta check in on Barek. Bring her some chicken soup."

* * *

"Something's different today. Your visit with your Mom?" She asked him, in their private corner of the dining room.

He spoke quietly, too. "I just… she was okay, yesterday."

"That's good, Bobby. I'm glad."

He checked her for sincerity and found it, the same way he'd found her concern when she'd told him she was sorry about the breakup. Bobby licked his lips. "I… I guess I kind of… veered off course," he explained.

Alex shrugged and stuck her fork in her salad. "You've got a broken heart. It's understandable."

Bobby scratched the back of his neck and looked out over the room. "I, uh… I don't think I loved her, Eames."

Alex's fork hovered above her plate. She waited for him to explain.

He shook his head, turned his plate a quarter turn, and looked to his left this time, careful to look anywhere but at her. "I didn't. I didn't love her."

After a moment's pause, Alex moved her fork to her mouth and ate. "That explains it, then."

"Hmmm?"

"Why it didn't work out."

It was his turn to look expectantly at her.

"You didn't love her, Bobby. Janine wanted love. You gave her a lot of things, Bobby, a lot of great, nice things, but you couldn't give her what she really wanted… needed."

His gaze slowly fell from her face down to his plate. He spent a full minute sculpting what remained of his macaroni with his fork. "So I thought I had it figured out, but then I saw my mother, and she… reminded me of a few things."

Alex gave him a smile. "Moms are good for that."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Do you have the victim's clothes?" Bobby asked the M.E.

"They're bagged and tagged in the drawer over there," Rodgers answered. She stood over the man's body on the table, where Alex and Mike waited expectantly to hear what she had to say. Bobby drifted off in the direction of the personal effects lockers.

Rodgers puzzled over his behavior a moment. For once, Goren didn't seem interested in the body. She directed her attention to the other two detectives. "Male, African American, 25 years of age, COD gunshot wound to the chest."

"Decomp already?" Alex asked, peering at the body.

"He's been dead since Monday," Rodgers replied.

"Bullets?" Mike inquired.

".45 caliber. He bled out pretty fast."

"Anything else you can give us?" Mike folded his arms and listened.

"He had sex the day he died."

Bobby brought the bag out to the group and showed Rodgers the name on the tag. "I'm going to send these to trace," he said.

"Have them check for female DNA, too," Alex said.

He nodded, then looked over to Rodgers. "See if you can get anything from the right side of his chest."

"What exactly am I looking for?" the M.E. asked.

"I don't know."

* * *

"No way! I never used Honch's car!" Walker looked terrified. He paced the floor of his tiny office, which was decorated with hastily hung music posters. "Oh, man, this isn't good, man!"

Logan looked over at Alex. "He's sending you some kinda message?"

Walker flopped into his desk chair. "I'm in the shit, now." He looked up at Alex. "Do you think he'll kill me? He could kill me, couldn't he?"

Alex gave Mike a glance before she replied. "I think he's capable."

"Oh, man! What am I gonna do?!" He looked around the room, picked up a pile of billing statements in his hand. "I can't just run and hide! My business…"

"We can beef up patrols around here, keep an eye on you."

The man looked up at Logan with worried eyes. "Yeah, I guess that's all you can do." He stared at the paperwork on his desk and shook his head. "I didn't have anything to do with Honch and I never borrowed his car. But I think I know who got me into this mess."

* * *

"He's high. Won't be any good to us until he comes down."

Bobby checked the clock on the wall. "I could use a break," he said.

She smiled. "Me too."

They walked out together, Bobby for once without a binder tucked under his arm. She found it easy to keep in step with him. The evening rush had already started, and the streets were full of cars. The partners made better time walking on the sidewalk than the cars did, stalled in the street.

"Eames, what do you think… is it really possible to… never mind."

"Is it possible to what?"

"Never mind, stupid question."

"Goren, if there's one thing I've learned about you since we've been partners, it's that you don't have any stupid questions."

"Love." He kept his eyes on the sidewalk just ahead of his feet. It was out there, and she could think less of him if she wanted to.

"You're asking do I believe in love? Of course I do!"

He squirmed, and it suddenly seemed as if his clothes were too small for him. "But… d'you think there's really someone for everyone and all that?"

"I don't know. A lot has to do with how people treat each other. I mean, maybe God made somebody for everybody, but whether they actually find each other probably depends a lot on if one of them is too busy being a selfish ass."

This brought a smile to his lips.

"I think there's somebody for you, Bobby."

He stopped in his tracks, but she kept walking. He followed after her, a million clarifying questions zipping through his head. Only one made it to his lips. "Why?"

Now Alex stopped and looked into his eyes. "You're too good to pass up."

He scoffed. "I'm not good, Eames. If you had any idea…"

She reached out and put her hand on his heart. "You're not perfect, Bobby, but I know what's in here. I know _you_."

"You wouldn't have said that two days ago, if you knew—"

She was already walking away.

* * *

"Mr. Navarro," Bobby said, settling into the chair across the table from him. "Feeling better?"

"I feel like a dog."

For a moment, something about the man brought Frank to mind. Bobby's knee started to shake under the table. "Sorry about that. Answer a few questions, we'll get you out of here as quick as we can."

"Sure."

"How do you know Dave Walker?"

"Walker? Oh, he owns the music store."

"Yeah, that's him." Bobby waited, and the man finally grew uncomfortable in the silence.

"You know, I bought music there."

"No you didn't. You bought stuff from him, but it wasn't music." This earned Goren a suspicious glare. Goren shifted in his chair and asked cheerfully, "How's your sister? She doing okay? 'Cuz I heard there might be some… trouble coming her way."

"What do you know about my sister?"

"I know somebody told you to give up Walker or else your sister…"

The man grew pale. "Y-you know?"  
Bobby smiled at him. "I deal with people like him all the time. It's my job to know."

"Yeah, Honch told me… that he'd get my little sister if… so I was supposed to say that Walker borrowed his car Saturday night, only I know he didn't borrow his car. Walker didn't go anywhere Saturday night. I know, 'cuz I was with him. We smoked a couple of blunts."

"You guys do that a lot?"

He shrugged. "Once a week or so."

"So Honch would send you over to Walker's store… for what, exactly?"

"You know, just stuff he needed. Roaches, pipes."

"Why didn't he come himself?"

"He said the cops were watching him."

"So you'd come by, gather up a box full of roach clips and pipes, have a smoke with Walker, and be on your way, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Didn't you ever wonder how many pipes one guy needs?"

"I thought he was selling them, or giving them away."

"A sales incentive!" Bobby clapped his hands. "Buy an ounce of weed, get a pipe free!" He laughed.

"What else could he do with all of it?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out," Bobby said. He was interrupted by a knock on the window. Bobby excused himself and went around to observation.

"We got the report back from trace on Stewart's clothes. Inside pocket? Caffeine, citocoline, tyrosine, taurine, and phenylalanine." Mike read the names off the report.

Bobby's face screwed up. "Sounds like a… drink? A diet drink?"

"Energy booster," Mike nodded. "But there was something else. Alprazolam."

This surprised Bobby. He took the report from Mike's hands and scanned it himself. Then he went back into the interrogation room.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"I'm gonna call narcotics, see what they make of this," Alex announced as she took the report back from Mike and headed for her desk. Mike looked through the glass. Bobby was already sitting down at the table.

"So, besides pot, what's the rage in the neighborhood?"

"I don't know, the usual, I guess. Heroin, crack…"

"No, there's something new, isn't there?" Bobby asked.

Navarro leaned forward. "Look, can I go? My sister—"

"Sure. Just tell me about the new thing."

"I don't know, exactly. Some kind of drink. Honch's guys, they're calling them bartenders, now."

Bobby sat in thought a few minutes, then abruptly got to his feet. "Thank you. I'll see what I can do to cut you loose."

* * *

As he approached the desk, Alex hung up the phone. "Narco says they're just calling it a 'cocktail.' Some kind of energy drink mixed with whatever drug they happen to have that day. The guys selling are called 'bartenders,' and they're all under Honch. It's his brainchild."

"So Stewart had an energy drink with Xanax in it in his pocket." Bobby looked at her. "I'm guessing he was a bartender."

"Yeah, the things are tiny little bottles. No reason to carry it in your pocket when you could down it right away without looking the least bit suspicious."

"I'm gonna try and find out where they're getting the Xanax."

Mike Logan wandered over. "I just got the rest from trace. They found DNA in his clothes. A match for Kendra Jones."

"That sounds like motive to me," said Alex. "Whose baby was she carrying?"

"I'll call Rodgers," Mike said.

Alex glanced over at her partner. "Ten to one it wasn't Honch's kid."

Bobby simply nodded and continued working at his computer.

* * *

It was late, and the three detectives gathered in the interview room over boxes of Chinese takeout. Bobby showed them a map of the neighborhood as he hung it on the board. He pushed markers into place as he spoke. "Robberies and home invasions where prescription meds were among the things stolen," he explained. Bobby continued, "They've got all the good stuff, Xanax, vicodin, oxycontin, Demerol, Ritalin…"

"And these people don't even know which one is in the cocktail they drink? It's a wonder we're not picking up bodies left and right." Mike frowned.

"Actually, there have been a few. My contact in narcotics filled me in," Alex said.

"Honch is our guy," Bobby said. "Narcotics is after him for running this cocktail business, but he's good for our murders, too."

Mike's cell phone rang. He spoke quietly, then hung up. "That was Rodgers. Kendra was carrying Stewart's kid."

"We need search warrants, a lot of 'em."

"We need to coordinate all of this with narcotics," Bobby added.

"I'll go get the Captain," Mike said, walking out of the room.

* * *

The night had settled in fully, and Goren and Eames were waiting with their team to move in. They'd been assigned Honch's brother's home, a haven he often visited and a likely warehouse for the production of the cocktails. It was the most mysterious of the three sites being searched tonight, and therefore, the most dangerous.

After checking that the team was ready, Eames turned to Bobby and said, "Let's do it."

They marched ahead of the others, Eames with the warrants in hand, Bobby with his gun at the ready. She rang the bell. The commotion they heard behind the closed door was enough for Eames to draw her weapon.

"Police! Open up!" The door didn't budge, so after one more warning, the detectives stepped out of the way so a battering ram could be used to force the door. They went inside, weapons out in front of them.

Unfortunately, Ron Stiles' home held more than just a drug factory. His girlfriend and their four children, all under the age of ten, were also present. The woman was herding her children to hide at her feet, behind the couch, and Stiles, coward that he was, was hiding behind her.

Bobby walked carefully toward her, his gun trained on Ron, though from the woman's perspective, she thought it was on her. "Mr. Stiles, don't do this," Bobby said. Bobby spoke to the woman with a much softer tone. "Please, just take your children and move behind me," he said. "We don't want anyone to get hurt."

Eames traversed the room, moving slowly, her weapon also aimed at the man. The terrified mother shooed her children towards the front door.

"Mr. Stiles," Bobby said. "We just want to talk to you."

"Gun," Alex said, spotting the weapon hidden behind his back.

"Put the gun down, Mr. Stiles," Bobby said. "You don't want your kids, your woman, to get hurt, do you?"

She finally managed to convince the older child to take his siblings and creep towards the front door. She saw a police officer with them outside and took one step to follow them.

"Don't go anywhere, Maria," Ron said.

Both Goren and Eames felt their muscles tighten as he remained behind his girlfriend, moving his gun between the police officers and the innocent woman.

"Ronnie, don't do this," she said quietly, as tears fell down her face. "Just put the gun down, Ronnie," she said again.

"You heard her, Ronnie," Bobby said. "Look at her, she's crying. She doesn't want you to get hurt. She loves you, Ronnie."

"I love you, Ronnie," she said through her tears, picking up on Goren's tactic.

"She wants her kids to grow up with their father, Ronnie."

"I want you here with us, baby," she told him.

"Put the gun down," Bobby said again.

The man finally squatted on the floor and laid the gun down, then stood back up, hands in the air. Alex hastily moved in, kicked the gun away, and started to cuff him.

Bobby pulled Maria to safety behind him until he heard Alex say, "Clear."

The rest of the team started searching the house.

Maria glanced sadly back at Ron, then took Goren by the hand. "Take me to my children," she sobbed.

He gave Eames a quick glance and walked out with the woman, still holding her hand.

* * *

A/N Thanks for accepting my bizarro case file. I realize it's far-fetched, but I wanted something more interesting than your run-of-the-mill drug sales. Thanks for the reviews, as well! I love hearing from readers!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The reports didn't write themselves. Major Case wrote up the reports on the murders, and Narcotics did the rest. By midnight, Honch was looking at death row or life plus 150 years in prison. Logan finished his first, dropping it onto Alex's desk with a smirk.

"I win," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "Bobby, c'mon!"

He scrawled his name on the last page and handed it to her. She handed the report to Logan, and inspected his as he looked over theirs. "Ha!" Eames said, pointing to a spot on Logan's. "You forgot to initial here."

He looked defeated. "Fine. You win." He leaned down and borrowed her pen to tag his initials on the paper.

"Tomorrow," she said. "I'm headed home tonight."

Logan looked over at Goren, who nodded. "I'm beat, too," he said. Within a few more minutes, they were riding quietly down in the elevator.

"Eames," Bobby said. "You're wiped. My place is closer. Why don't you just… crash with me tonight?"

She covered her mouth as she yawned. "I'm thinking about going back upstairs and crashing here," she said. "But I think I could make it as far as your place."

He nodded and they rode the rest of the way down in silence. At the car, there was an awkward moment. "I could… if you…"

"No, it's okay, Bobby. I can drive." He got into the passenger side and fastened the seatbelt. He didn't say a word when she put the air on high and cranked the radio. He just followed the blur of lights with his eyes until she parked near his building.

After she got out, he led the way inside, holding doors for her as they went. "Just give me a few minutes to change the sheets. You can have the bed," he said.

"No, Bobby, the couch is fine, really."

"Eames, I… I want to."

She smiled and took her shoes off, then sank into the soft cushion of his couch to wait. When Bobby returned, she was sound asleep. "Eames," he said, touching her arm.

"Hmmm."

"I've got the bed ready."

"Oh, Bobby," she sighed, and turned her head the other way.

He pondered what to do. Another look at her cramped neck and he made his decision. Bobby scooped her up into his arms and started for the bedroom.

She reached up and locked her arms around his neck.

When he bent over the bed to settle her there, she still clung to his neck. Her soft sigh sent a tingle through him. "Eames," he whispered, trying to shrug her off. "Alex," he tried again.

Another feminine sigh. "Bobby," she mumbled with a smile. Her arms fell free and she turned to her side, curling her hands up near her chin.

He stood admiring her for a long time… several minutes, anyway. Then he gently tucked her in and touched his hand against her head. "Good night, Eames," he whispered, and walked out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

Bobby stepped out of his clothes, stripping down to his boxers and undershirt. He glanced at his choices, the couch and the recliner, and decided on the recliner. The couch may have been fine for Eames, but it was a couple of feet short to accommodate him comfortably. He draped his clothes over the back of the couch and grabbed a thin blanket from the coat closet. Bobby relaxed in the chair, the blanket up to his waist, and closed his eyes.

He'd wanted to kiss her. Just then, in the bedroom, he'd been overcome by a powerful urge to kiss her. Bobby threw his arm over his eyes, blocking out the little bit of light that was snaking in from the kitchen window.

He'd never wanted to kiss Janine like that. Even when they'd made love, he had operated mechanically, stimulus… response…stimulus… response. He hadn't _wanted_ her like he'd just now wanted Eames.

And even Claudia. Sure he'd desired her, but it wasn't the same. He had a _feeling_, a minute ago: an honest feeling.

_You're fucked in the head, Goren, _ he told himself. And then he thought of his Dad, the sex-addict. Bobby scowled and turned halfway to his side, as far as the bends in the old recliner would allow. _She's right about me,_ he thought. _Mom is always right about me._

After another ten minutes of mentally berating himself for his lapse, he pushed himself angrily up and strode to the kitchen. Bobby got the scotch out of the cabinet. Feeling its light weight in his hands, he decided to forego the glass and drink straight from the bottle. He guzzled what was left of the whiskey down. When he returned to the chair, he found his thoughts still centered on the woman who was sleeping on his bed. He picked up the remote and turned on the tv.

* * *

In spite of the late hours, Alex Eames woke up before eight. She turned into the pillow and was pleased with the scent she found there, masculine…strong. Then she realized she wasn't in her bed. Then she remembered whose bed she was in.

She opened her eyes and sat up quickly, looking around the room. It was utilitarian, really. A dresser, a nightstand, a bookshelf. Four shelves of reference material. She got out of bed and walked closer, peering at the titles. Everything from world economics to US history to comparative mythology to the DSM-V. The books lined up in neat rows on the shelves. All four shelves full, he'd gone to stacking more books anywhere there was room for them. Some stacks spilled out onto the floor.

She unbuttoned a few buttons and adjusted her twisted clothes. Too bad she'd fallen asleep before she had the chance to change into something more comfortable. After making a trip to the bathroom, she quietly turned the knob and walked down the hall.

He was sprawled in his recliner, the tv spraying the room with flashes of light and voices in motion. His blanket had fallen away from the chair, and his boxers sported a gaping flap.

She looked away. His hair was mussed and he was snoring softly. She picked up the errant blanket and swiftly tossed it over his bottom half. He stirred, but did not wake.

Alex found her way to the kitchen, and the coffee pot. She saw the scotch bottle on the counter and frowned. It wasn't that Bobby drank, it was when he drank that bothered her. He used it as an escape, and she found herself wondering what exactly had driven him to it last night.

Turning, she leaned her back against the counter, resting her elbows on the top of it as she listened to the carafe filling in the coffeemaker behind her. Looking back into the living room, she could just make out the tip of his profile: the rounded edge of his cheek, the upward turn of his nose, his wayward curls. Alex marveled, once again, that he couldn't see the goodness of his own character.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

He slept through the making of the coffee, though she noticed he stopped snoring and had turned slightly the other direction. Alex's voice on the phone brought him out of his sleep.

"Okay, thank you, sir. No, I'll tell him. He's probably still asleep," she said with a smile. She ended the call and set her phone on the table. She heard the click of the bathroom door and poured herself a cup of coffee. He kept a little bowl of sugar near the pot just for her. She opened his fridge and found he'd bought some little cups of flavored creamers, too. Alex smiled. Bobby never used creamer, and the box had never been opened. It too, had been a purchase just for Alex.

When he emerged, he had pulled on an old pair of khaki shorts. He grabbed a cup and poured himself some coffee. "There's creamer in the—"

"I found it, thanks," she smiled at him. "We got the day off," she announced.

He nodded. That feeling struck him again just as he raised the cup to his lips.

"You did some drinking last night?" She asked.

He shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

"Thinking about the case, I guess," she stated and took another drink of coffee.

"N-no…" Bobby sat down in the chair opposite her. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to connect with her for more than a fleeting few seconds here and there. His knee bounced, and his gaze jumped from one thing to another. He drank the coffee because he didn't know what else to do.

"Must have been relationships, then," she theorized.

"Y-yeah."

"I'm listening, if you want to talk."

That sincerity was in her eyes again, and he felt heat creeping up his neck. Bobby stared at a worn spot on the wood of his cabinets. "I don't know that I want you to… to hear it."

When her hand settled over his, he nearly jumped. Warmth seeped down from her palm to the back of his hand.

"Try me," Alex whispered, hoping he would finally see that he was safe with her, and open up.

Instead, Bobby got to his feet, pulling his hand away. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I… I can't. I've got some things to do," he lied. Momentarily, his eyes locked with hers, and then he hurried to the bedroom to throw on an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

"Look, hang around as long as you want," he offered, knowing that even though he was running away, he wanted her here. "I'll be back in a couple of hours," he said. "I've just got… things to do," he repeated. _Damn,_ he thought, as that feeling swelled inside him again. He spun around quickly and walked to the door. "G'bye, Eames."

Alex sighed as she watched the door click shut. "A couple of hours, huh?" she said to herself. She finished off her coffee, turned off the pot, and gathered her things. She wouldn't be here in a couple of hours.

* * *

He hadn't bothered to check the weather when he left, and now the drizzling rain was soaked through his shirt, making him cold. He was a mile and a half away, now, shivering and panting from the quickness of his pace. Bobby spied a diner ahead and ducked inside.

He smoothed his hand over his hair, leaving it dripping wet. He wiped it dry on his jeans and waited for the hostess to take him to an empty booth.

"Pretty wet out there, isn't it?" She asked him, though from the look of him, there was no need to respond.

"Uh, yeah," he muttered, and slipped into the booth. "Coffee?" He ordered, thinking if he'd stayed home, he'd still be warm.

"Be right back,"she replied, and walked away.

A drop of water slipped from his hair and slid down his forehead. He caught it with his hand before it went into his eye. The coffee arrived, and he ordered breakfast. Thankfully, the hot liquid took the chill off. He looked around the room, but couldn't get Alex out of his thoughts.

He remembered her little sigh from last night, and he smiled. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. Alex had said his name. Twice. In her sleep. _God, what if…?_ He reached into his pocket and found his cell phone. Bobby dialed, and his heart fell when it went to voicemail. "Uh, Alex? Uh, Eames. I… I just…" He was silent a long time, and the device kept recording. "Just give me a call." He replaced the phone in his pocket and looked up to find the waitress bringing his plate.

* * *

It was a longer run than usual. He'd called her on the drive home, but she was pretty fed up with Bobby Goren right now. It couldn't have been about work; Deakins or somebody else would have tried to get hold of her too. So she'd changed into her running clothes, and headed out.

The light rain felt good against her hot, sweaty skin, and she'd stayed out in it longer simply because it felt so good. Now, a block from home, she slowed to a walk to cool down.

_What the hell was he calling about?_ She thought about their most recent conversations, and wondered if he was finally ready to talk to her. Most of what he'd had to say lately had been so cryptic, they'd barely scratched the surface of anything he really might be feeling.

As she stuck her key in the lock she thought about last night. She'd been so tired, she couldn't really remember now what had happened; how she'd gotten from the couch to the bedroom. She had a fuzzy memory of her hands around his neck, but nothing else. At any rate, nothing had transpired between them. Every button had still been fastened when she awoke in the morning. And she'd still had her socks on.

Alex hit the shower. The rain had made her feel mostly clean, but she had to do something about her hair. She climbed in and lathered up.

* * *

The meal hadn't lasted long. Bobby ate what he could manage, and then paid his check. He went back outside and walked again, this time in the direction of the subway.

It had stopped raining by the time he reached her neighborhood. He continued walking until he made it to her doorstep. Bobby rang the bell.

Alex swung the door open, shocked to see the state he was in. She stepped aside to let him enter. "You're soaked," she said. She shut the door and added, "I'll get you a towel or something."

He paced a few steps toward the kitchen, then turned back, his eyes deep in thought. When he saw her coming with the towel, he reached down and stripped the wet t-shirt over his head. He took the towel and handed her his shirt.

"Pants, too," she commanded. "Wet jeans are intolerable."

He emptied his pockets and peeled off the jeans while Alex politely looked away. Then he quickly dried his body and vigorously rubbed his wet hair.

She took the towel from him and handed him a blanket to wrap up in. He sat on the couch and let it rest over him instead. She hung his wet clothes from the shower rod, then came back in and sat beside him.

"You're gonna be sick, walking around like that."

"You never called me back," Bobby said.

"I went running," she explained. "I only just got out of the shower."

He nodded only slightly and his face didn't change, but inside, his relief was immense. "I… I guess I'm ready to… talk," he said.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Wait," Alex said. "Do you want a coffee, or a tea? Something else to help you warm up?"

Deliberately, he shook his head. He leaned toward her, and the blanket dropped a little, revealing the rest of his bare chest. Her eyes drifted down a moment, then back up.

"You… you're interested in me," Bobby said. It wasn't a question. He was using his detective skills now, something he rarely did in their personal relationship.

Alex said nothing. She couldn't deny it, but she wanted to know what Bobby felt, first.

He picked up her hand and held it between both of his. "I didn't realize…and even last night…"

"I don't remember last night," she admitted.

"Oh, nothing happened… nothing like that."

"I know."

"I just… you were sleeping, and when I tried to wake you… you said my name."

One corner of her mouth curled into a smile. "What about you, Bobby?" Alex asked.

He squeezed her hand, then took one of his away to rub the back of his neck. "I… I don't know. I don't understand…" He looked her in the eye. "I don't want to screw everything up."

"I don't care about your self-doubts, Bobby. I want to know… how do you _feel_?"

He dropped his free hand against the blanket on his leg. "I… Alex, I feel…something." His face was distraught. "But I don't know what the feeling is."

"You're not sure if you love me?"

He nodded, then shook his head, then nodded. "My father…"

"You're not anything like your father, Bobby."

"But sex addiction is hereditary."

"Oh, please. You're a sex addict like I have compulsive eating disorder. I like to eat; it doesn't mean I'm compulsive about it."

"How can you be so sure?"

"You're not your father, Bobby." She turned and leaned her back against the couch. "Look. What kind of feeling is it?"

"Desire."

He said it so quickly, it surprised her. She looked into his eyes, and felt a twinge of her own. "Desire, how? Tell me more." She licked her lips and swallowed, trying to keep a detached manner about it all.

"I want you. What else does desire mean?"

"Sexually."

"Of course. And… protectively."

This gave her a smile. "You want to protect me?"

"But that could just be, you know… the partnership, the job."

"Or friendship. Or love."

"You see how confusing it is."

"Tell me more. What else do you feel?" She asked, very aware that his fingers were gripped tightly around her hand.

"I don't know. That's the big one."

"What else? How about when I didn't call you back? Any feelings then?"

"Fear."

"Fear of what?"

"That… that I lost my chance. That I lost you."

"That doesn't sound anything like sex addiction. A sex addict would just find someone else." She looked over at him. "What else? What about right now?"

"I'm terrified."

"I can see that."

"And… I…" His face drew closer and his mouth moved over hers, working open lips and tongue, exploring, giving her a glimpse into the depth of what he was feeling. He broke away, and his hand gripped hers tighter than ever.

"I…I can't… all my relationships fail," he stammered.

"It takes two to make a relationship work," she said. She placed her hand on his heart, the same way she had in the street the other day. "You're a good man, Robert Goren. You don't believe it, but I've seen it. I just saw it again yesterday, with Ronnie Stiles' girlfriend and his kids."

"I've made so many mistakes," he said, shaking his head and looking down.

She raised her hand from where it lay on his chest and cupped his cheek. "What's done is done. This is something new, here. A new beginning." She leaned in, and he finally released her other hand, slipping his around her back. She kissed him lightly on the lips and he drew back.

"I can't lose you, Eames. I can't screw this up."

"You won't lose me Bobby. Whatever happens, I promise we will always be friends."

"I can be an ass sometimes."

"I know." She kissed him again, and placing both hands around her, he hugged her close.

She slipped her left hand to the back of his head and her right slid back and forth on his thigh. They paused a moment, and Bobby yanked the blanket off, tossing it to the floor. "I think you've warmed me up, now," he joked.

"Mmmmm," she said, enjoying the feeling of his arms around her. She caressed his bare chest. "There's something wrong here," she said.

"What?" He asked.

"You're the only one out of your clothes."

Bobby grinned and released her from his grip. He watched her muscular arms as she pulled her shirt over her head. He studied the lace design of her bra while she shimmied out of her pants. "Now, that's better," Alex smiled at him.

"It's not quite… fair yet," he said, and he dipped his fingers under the bottom of her bra, tugging at it. "I mean, I'm not wearing anything above the waist."

Alex reached back and released the clasp. He pulled her bra from her arms, letting it drop to the floor as he stared at her voluptuous breasts.

She watched him watching her, and a smile graced her lips. She leaned forward, inviting him to let his hands explore. He was happy to oblige.

"Beautiful," he whispered, as his hands danced over her curves. Their mouths met again, and Alex's hands journeyed over his skin, too.

Moaning their pleasure, worries faded away as they focused entirely on discovering each other.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Logan had enjoyed the day off, too, and when they arrived at the bar, they were surprised to see Carolyn was there with him.

Alex reached out and rubbed her arm. "How are you feeling?" She asked.

Carolyn was thinner and still a little pale, but she looked good. "Better. I've been able to eat for 24 hours, now. I won't stay long, just needed to get out of the house."

Bobby gave her a very sweet greeting, and Alex admired his compassion. Mike ordered the drinks he owed them, and got Carolyn a ginger ale.

"Did you fill her in on the case?" Bobby asked. "It was kind of interesting."

The four shared an hour of conversation before Mike excused himself to take Carolyn home.

Bobby and Alex were left alone at the table, silently staring at their drinks. "So this is love," he said quietly.

She nodded, and the affection in her eyes was unmistakable. "It is on this side of the table." The look she threw his way asked him the question, plain as day.

He shrugged. "Content. Cheerful. Accepted." He stared into her eyes tenderly. "I don't know how, Eames, but I think you understand me." He looked down a moment and laughed. Then he brought his eyes back to meet with hers. "I'm grateful."

She got up, taking his hand for a moment. He scooted his chair back and she sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders. Bobby's hands were at her waist. She touched her cheek against his, then gently kissed his lips. "Sounds like love to me," she whispered, and kissed him again.

THE END

A/N Thanks to all for reading and for the reviews. I'd love to hear what you thought!


End file.
